


On the Way to El Paso

by psychocondriacs_with_guns



Category: From dusk till dawn, Tarantinoverse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 15:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18236807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychocondriacs_with_guns/pseuds/psychocondriacs_with_guns
Summary: You’re just trying to make it to California, state by state. Spent all your money on a piece of shit car, that broke down on this abandoned highway. But its okay.... there seems to be a car coming.





	On the Way to El Paso

Once you left the wet womb of the Deep South, you entered the dust lands of Texas. Green grass turned yellow, and then there was no grass- for miles. Just red clay, fence posts, and sometimes in the distance you could see a silo or a big chemical plant. They were hard to miss, big white spheres set across the red landscape. So many one stop gas stations and worn out homes. 

And you almost made it to El Paso. Once it felt like that $500 car was gonna get you at least across the state, the fucking radiator started to overheat. You pulled over and shut it off, popped the hood, but didn’t dare touch the engine. You were no expert with cars. 

And it was hot that day, 96° and 20% humidity. You saw clouds in the distance but they were not approaching. It was too sunny, the wind was blowing the wrong way. Worst of all was the emptiness on the road, it threatened to last forever.

And so, you got your beggar gear. The cardboard sign that said “Going to California” on one side and “Weed, Acid, Shrooms” on the other. That sign may seem cliche but it made you very rich in Austin, when you ran into major business. You woke up at 5, got dressed, ate a cheap dinner. It started slow, nickel and diming along downtown, but you managed to flirt with enough street musicians to get invited into a VIP lounge, with some very eager rich kids. This was all within the first 3 hours of the evening. You ditched with one of the guitarists to an upscale strip club where you encountered a young bachelorette party. After milking that you bailed, and immediately ran into a gang of gutter-punks. Easily made a solid $2K, not including expenses. You drank a lot of hard liquor and then tried to wear it all off with a Waffle House breakfast at 4:30 AM. You got on the road early at 6:00 am, after having some more coffee and saying goodbye to your short term friends. It was 3 pm now and you were starving. You spent all day navigating and eating shitty gas station cakes.

And here you were, miles away from Marfa, sitting atop a busted down car, hoping someone would stop. Your feet sweating in red leather boots, your bra already a hindrance.

And as it so happened, there would be someone, currently headed your way.

~~~

Speeding across empty highway road was a black 1968 Mercury Cougar XR7, its engine tearing up the silence that expanded on either side for miles. Why get from San Antonio to El Paso in 10 hours when you can do it in 8 and a half? Better yet, why go on the interstate when there's plenty of uncontrolled, unwatched roads to take at any speed they wanted.

The driver had control of the radio while the passenger sat in the back and complained about each song. It didn’t matter changing the station, it was the only one you could hear for miles and miles. And the silence was worse, because then the passenger needed to be entertained with a more present companion and the driver was too tired for that. The driver pretended he could hear him and responded ever so often with encouragement to go on, maybe whatever random thought sprung into his mind at the time. The passenger did not care whether the driver heard him or not, the conversation was dull and the road was long- it was all in keeping the mind active.

Nothing for miles. Except trailer parks and cows, mountains in the distance. And then, when it seemed like the driver had just enough of his companion’s complaining, there was something in the distance. A rusty red piece of shit chevy pulled over on the side of the road, and there was a girl. Sitting a top the trunk of her car, holding up a sign, he was too far away to read it. As he approached, the driver noticed she flipped it around and he could clearly read “Weed, Acid, Shrooms” and with another flip, the words “Going to California.” 

“Hey Seth.... we should grab that girl,” Richie appeared by draping himself over the front seat. He presented a bottle of liquor to Seth, who took it.

“I don’t know Richie.... It seems suspicious....”

“I think that she’s the least suspicious thing we’ve come across yet.”

“Richie, I’m telling you we shouldn’t.”

“We’ll bring her to the next town.”

And that settled it. A bargain was struck. And the Mercury pulled over.

~~~

You felt your heart skip when you saw the car slow down. You pulled on your sunglasses and hat, wiped the little sunblock you had off your face and grabbed your bag- grinning ear to ear, face flush.

You sure as fuck hoped they were not law abiding citizens.

But hey this whole thing was a gamble anyway, who knew how many hours passed before you were dead. Any crazy fuck on these lonely highways could have a gun, and luckily you were a sweet looking thing of no perceptible danger. 

You leaned into the car, holding the smile, “Are you offering me a lift, sir?”

“We can get you to the next town,” this came from the driver, who sat in the front. He gave you no charming look but a kind disposition. If he shot you any sort of a smile you might in fact die. He was so handsome, with a smug disposition that made your knees weak. There was another fella sitting in the back of the car, legs stretched in the back seat. He gave you a smile but it felt very much like staring into the eyes of a snake. 

“Any room in the trunk?”

“Yeah go ahead.”

The trunk popped open and you brought your bag over. Once everything laid flat, you shut it tight, and skipped back over to the front with your backpack. You took a seat and sighed in the A/C, “Thank God, you saved me. I was going to die out there.”

“How long you been out there, sweetheart?” said the man in the back. 

You gave him a smile, “About 40 minutes. Kept popping in and out of the car to cool off in the shade.”

“Well, thank God, we came across you. Seth, by the way,” the driver reached across his hand. You took it, it was big and warm. “That’s Richie in the back.”

“Thank you so much again for picking me up, I’m ____________.” You reached for your water, taking big gulps. You offered it to Seth, he turned it down. When you offered it to Richie, he accepted the bottle and downed a bit of water. 

You leaned back and sighed, “So where are you guys headed?”

“Right now, El Paso,” Seth reached into his jacket for some cigarettes. Richie passed back the water bottle. “Just making our way across the country.”

“Same here. I’ve been saving up my own money for months and I blew it all on that piece of shit car and gas to Austin.”

“Bad luck.”

“Figures,” you reached into your bag and pulled out your own cigarette box. In it, 6 tightly rolled joints. You pulled one out, “You don’t mind if I smoke?”

“I don’t,” said Seth. “But since it is Texas, I’m gonna ask you to get in the back with Richie. I will have just a hit off that if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, after all, you guys did save my life.”

You took a big drag off a joint, passing it over to Seth, before crawling over the edges of the seat with Richie. 

“Hey you wouldn’t happen to have a tape on you?”

“I’ve got a Misfits cassette.”

“Hand it on over, I’m tired of hearing this shit on the radio.”

You leaned up against the back of the door, head against the cracked back window. Richie accommodated your space, even though the back was cramped, so his legs were open, one foot propped up and bent. The other stretched into your own foot space. You crossed your legs, tucked one under you. You all chatted, passed around cigarettes and the joint and then Richie passed you a bottle. Richie took off his sunglasses, slipped on his regular glasses. After a while, you undid your top buttons, tied up your hair. And then you kicked off your shoes.

Your feet were sweaty, hot. They ached in your leather boots. You worked them off and gave a groan as cool air fell on the aching arches of your feet. And as you pulled them off, out the corner of your eye, you became aware that Richie was looking at you. 

You wiggled your toes, letting them get loose and free from what was such a suffocating prison, “Man it feels great to get those off....”

You lifted your feet onto the back seat of the car, skin sticking to the leather interior. Relaxing into your seat, you let your feet slide forward, between you and Richie. 

Richie’s face held straight, letting himself take a heavy drag off his cigarette. He watched you stretch out your legs, settling them in the middle seat. You ran your hands along your ankles, giving them a soft squeeze. Your toes were inches from the rise in his slacks, and you gave him a glance down and then into his eyes. You bit the corner of your lip, a mischievous smirk. 

You flexed your feet out, like a cat. You ran your bare feet up the inside of his pant legs, feeling the material of his suit against his thigh. Richie’s legs open wide as he cocked his head to the side and gave you a very satisfied smile. Your shoulders rose as you pressed your the tip of your foot against his zipper. Richie watched your feet fervently, completely ecstatic. He swallowed hard, sinking into his seat.

With the crinkle of your eyes, you began to knead into him. Your toes curled in and out as you pressed and felt along the shape his cock through the fabric of his slacks. Richie’s eyes flickered to Seth. You gave him a coy smile, and kept massaging him. His tongue touched his lip, and soon more stressors took form upon his face. You gave a soft hum, pressing into his now hardening piece in his pants. You closed your eyes now, using your touch to feel the shadow of his cock in his pants. His body was hot against the bottoms of your feet, the pads of your toes. The warmth sent a shiver down your spine, as did its texture, now rigid and dense. He let out a caught sigh, in the back of his throat, and then let go under his breath, “Shit….”

Your body slid forward as you gave a harder press against him, curling toes around what was most certainly his head. You opened your eyes, peeking at Richie with the most sultry look you could muster. He had a line of sweat, falling from his brow, in a line to his tense jaw. His gaze was intense on you, but he was no longer giving you those playfully devilish looks. His eyes gave the sense that he was thinking about something downright diabolical, his mouth parted in utter lust. His eyes held on you, as you watched him turn the bottle in his hand, taking another long drink.

You turned your hips, lifting your right foot up to his abdomen. You placed your toes on the center of his chest, Richie’s hand went towards your ankle, running his fingers along the top of your shin. He grabbed you by the thinnest part of your ankle, raising your foot to his face. He let his lips run over the tips of your toes, before kissing the inside of the arch. His breath was wet and hot, and he was enamored with your features. He kissed the bottoms of your feet, smelled the scent of your sweat. His tongue, soft and hot and wet, tasted the skin along the inside of your arches, and then into the heel of your foot.

All the while, your left foot was kneading into him, bringing him closer to the edge. You don’t know if he actually came, but you imagined he reached some form of climax, because he slouched back into his seat, in finality. You, however, curled in your left toes once more, gave him a soft smile and then asked, “So… would it be weird if I asked you to give me a rub?”

**Author's Note:**

> More to come, bitches.


End file.
